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Solidarity: What Is It?

One of my friends recently moved into the local Catholic Worker and was telling a group of us about the changes he is going through over this move. He was raised as a very conservative Catholic identifying himself as someone who “kissed the bishop’s ring” and not only looked down on us Catholics who question some of the decisions of the hierarchy, but prayed for our souls.

While in college, he went on a immersion trip to Nicaragua where he began to question many of his core beliefs about life, faith and the Catholic Church by learning first hand what a life of oppression and poverty really means. He began studying liberation and feminist theology and went on to earn his M.A. in Theology part-time. Over these past few years, he has developed a great understanding, one that he truly tries to live by, of Catholic Social Teaching. As someone raised in an economically, socially and racially privileged suburb, his transformation and dedication to living in solidarity with the poor is immensely admirable, but our conversation left me wondering what “living in solidarity with the oppressed and most vulnerable” really means.

Over the past few years, he has had a full-time, living-wage job managing an office for a local business. In addition to a living wage salary, he has been offered health benefits, and has nice enough colleagues, but he is currently looking for opportunities and work that better suits his passions.

The only thing that did not sit well with me was that for the past couple of years while living on his own, he has been denying his health insurance benefits and receiving the cash instead (which he donates) to “live in solidarity with the millions of people who do not have health insurance.” This seems like a wonderful act of solidarity and support, does it not? His intentions are pure, and he really believes this is what he is called to do. With genuine sincerity, he told us that he “understands that not everyone can do it.”

I guess my struggle with this is that I grew up in a poor neighborhood, sharing a bedroom with my grandmother for several years, and often eating meals from boxes and cans from the local food pantry. I was the first person in my huge extended family to go to and graduate from college, but my family still lives a few pay checks from losing their home. Many of my family members do not have health insurance or survive on Medicaid—the federal and state run healthcare program for impoverished people—so I suppose that it is people like my family whom he is trying to stand in solidarity with. In a matter of weeks when I graduate from my master of social work program, I will lose my own health insurance because neither the Catholic parish I work part-time for nor the very small social service agency I also work part-time for will provide me with health insurance. Since I have a chronic illness and have to take a pill daily that costs between $2-3 each, in addition to the many doctor’s visits and lab tests I need to stay regulated, I was appalled that he thought by giving up his health insurance that he was standing in solidarity with me or my family. I appreciate the gesture, but for me, it felt patronizing. In my mind, it was equivalent for a person who is hungry to watch someone throw fresh tomatoes at people’s heads at a county fair. What a waste! His act may make him feel better, but it does nothing for me but see him throwing away a wonderful gift he has been given that I desperately need.

Solidarity for me in this situation would mean keeping his health insurance and using it wisely. My Christian Social Ethics professor from college, Dr. Matthew Baasten, suggested a wise move for all those who have health insurance. Ever since his family had full health benefits, no matter where they lived, they have found a doctor at a free clinic who is eligible to take their specific insurance. The family is then able to receive health care, but their co-payments and insurance payments at the free clinic help the doctors and nurses keep the place running and stocked to see more people in need at no cost. Dr. Baasten also argued that we must work towards social change and health care for all by supporting organizations who lobby and advocate for health care on the local, state, federal and international level by making donations of both time and money.

Perhaps I am wrong in my understanding of solidarity, for I think it takes a lifetime to really figure out how to live it, but I know how I felt when I learned the way in which someone was trying to be in solidarity with my family and I. For more thoughts on what to do in a time when many have much and many more have none, I recommend theology professor Dr. Ronald J. Sider’sRich Christians in an Age of Hunger: Moving from Affluence to Generositywho looks at the facts of poverty, conservative and liberal views of this problem’s cause, theological and Scriptural foundations for action and solidarity, and what we can do in our world that is very practical.

Becky Schwantes, a Minnesota native, is currently a Master of Social Work candidate at Washington University in St. Louis. She earned her M.A. in Theology from the University of Notre Dame in 2008 and currently works as a Pastoral Associate at a parish in St. Louis and clinical social worker doing psychotherapy and counseling with older adults. Becky also holds a B.A. in Theology and Social Work with a minor is Social Justice and Peace Studies from the University of Portland, Oregon. Her primary areas of interest are Christian Social Ethics, Eco-Feminist Theology, Mental Health and issues of Aging. In her free time, she enjoys traveling the world, walking labyrinths, singing, and laughing with friends.

8 thoughts on “Solidarity: What Is It?”

Nice post Becky! I really like this story- it is very symbolic of the struggle of simple gospel living within a complex society, where it often feels that no matter what choice we make we are still probably oppressing someone… how do live responsibly and act as good stewards when we’re so interconnected?

I’m sure your friend’s choice is nothing but well-intentioned, but speaking as someone who researches the health care industry at work, ARRRRGH. While forgoing regular doctor’s visits may not be a big deal for a healthy person in their twenties, if your friend got in a car accident or underwent some other kind of catastrophic event, he’d undergo care at a hospital and likely be billed at a higher rate than that charged to insurers. (In most states that don’t have laws forbidding it, patients without insurance get charged a certain “sticker price” and insurers negotiate lower prices, with the result that uninsured patients’ bills are higher for the same procedures.) This bill would first be charged to your friend, possibly forcing him into bankruptcy, which would certainly hamper his ability to continue doing good works down the road. If he documented his inability to pay, the hospital would then write the care off as bad debt and (in most states that don’t forbid the practice) report it as charity care on their tax forms. So he’d be sending a nonprofit with a societal charge to provide care for the needy further into debt and allowing them to claim as charity some care that he could have had paid for in the first place. From my admittedly esoteric perspective, this seems like a bad use of resources. The idea of taking one’s insurance to a clinic, though, seems like a great way to approach this disparity.

Your larger point about who we claim to stand in solidarity with and why is very well taken.

Thanks for your thoughtful comments. As a member of a Catholic Worker (CW) community, I wanted to respond to some of your points. I do not want to refute what you’ve written, but I do want to explain better my understanding of CW thoughts, motivations, and what the word solidarity means to me.
The Catholic Worker vision is one in which we seek to let go of any privilege we have, so that we may be in better, honest, and more personal relationships with the people with whom we share our lives, specifically the poorest of the poor in our country, homeless women and children. In most ways, we cannot divest ourselves of our privilege, for example, I can’t change my white skin color. And while I grew up in a situation similar to the background you describe, my family never had to wonder where we were going to spend the night, where our next meal was coming from, or what to would do if I asked them, yet again, for another favor. I have never had to fight harder for everything because of my race.
It’s very important to us as Catholic Workers to honestly acknowledge these privileges that granted us access to loans, private educations, transportation, etc. It’s also important for us to distinguish between voluntary poverty to which we of privilege are called, and involuntary poverty, which we believe no one should have to live and suffer.
Over the past seventeen years I’ve sat at dinner at the Catholic Worker with many guests, attempting different “experiments in truth” at living the Gospel. I have done this as a person both with and without my own car. I have done this as a person who has health insurance, and who has decided to forgo health insurance. I have done this as a person who has exploited my privilege by having credit card and a student loan, and as one who has declined these things. I can tell you that the most connection and truth happens when I am living as closely to voluntary poverty as I can. It is not because our guests feel so much support from my choices, but because I know, in a minuscule way, a little of their reality.
Like you, the opportunities in my life (along with hard work, but more privilege) have allowed me to pursue a higher education -I am a Nurse Practitioner–I work in a city clinic like the one you describe. The particular choice to not have health insurance (again, it’s just one of many avenues of seeking personalism and voluntary poverty) has broader implications for me both as a Catholic Worker and as a Nurse Practitioner. The health care system in this country is certainly unjust; the poor are left behind while insurance companies’ profits skyrocket. As much as we can, Catholic Workers strive to withdraw support for unjust systems, work for justice, and build new systems (for example, there are several CW clinics in the U.S.). The Catholic Worker co-founder, Dorothy Day, talked about this philosophy:
“The only way we have to show our love for God is by the love we have for our [sister and] brother. ‘Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, you have done it unto Me.’ Love of [the other] means voluntary poverty, stripping one’s self, putting off the old man, denying one’s self, etc. It also means non-participation in those comforts and luxuries which have been manufactured by the exploitation of others. While our [others] suffer, we must compassionate them, suffer with them. While our [sisters and] brothers suffer from lack of necessities, we will refuse to enjoy comforts. These resolutions, no matter how hard they are to live up to, no matter how often we fall and have to begin over again, are part of the vision…”
While having insurance and paying a clinic (such as the one I work in) may save the U.S. government a little money, this is not our goal (to save money for the biggest of oppressive systems). Also, this strategy does little to improve my relationship with the poor. Our goal is to strengthen our understanding of, and relationship with, the poor, and to work to change to systems that keep them poor. “Solidarity” for us means personalist relationships with the poorest of the poor. We try to do this by being willing to suffer (and believe me, not having health insurance does not make me feel good or righteous about my life – it is stressful, inconvenient, and a little scary,) by changing our lifestyles, and by trying to exploit our privilege as little as possible. It’s just too easy for we who benefit from this Empire, we who are educated, and who have class and race privilege, to sit back in comfort (relative to the rest of the world,) playing it safe. And the end, for us, does not justify unjust means
I appreciate your thoughts, and am sorry your friend’s decisions were difficult for you. I always enjoy expounding on Catholic Worker philosophy, and would welcome you to spend time at the Catholic Worker, which is the best way to understand why we do what we do. We do not think that we have the truth, but rather, we are trying to live in a way that best leads us toward the women and children we live with, and in a way that leads us more closely to love.

PS- I have a few other suggestions to add to your book suggestion. Dorothy Day’s Selected Writings is a powerful read, and our friends at the Des Moines Catholic Worker have recently spearheaded an effort for health care justice: http://www.desmoinescatholicworker.org/healthcare.html

@ songbuddhacw –Thanks for your insights and resource recommendations. From a perspective of not participating in unjust structures, the decision to forgo health insurance makes a lot of sense. I appreciate the witness of the Catholic Worker, on our blog and in real life! Thanks for joining us.

Fascinating! Especially reading “both sides of the story” if you will. Becky, I wondered if you could talk more about how this felt patronizing. I often thought in the past that I would not marry until marriage was open to all. But then I wondered too, about giving up a right others would love to have. Would they think it was a shame I didnt take atvantage of it? Would it do what I was hoping-standing in solidarity?

I think this boils down to something we encounter so often but don’t reflect on enough-my choices help form me most of all.The value may not be in solidarity for the other person’s sake but my own formation and illumination. In that way, those I am trying to stand in solidarity with actually give to me what I could not have learned on my own. We naturally seek out environments that we either consciously or subconsiously know will fill our own needs. This is not to say people don’t do altruistic things. Its a both/and for me. What or who we are drawn to ultimately gives us what we are in need of too. I dont know if this is making sense. I’m a rambler, but it makes sense in my head!

Good questions! I wanted to let you know that our Roundtable…(the publication the St. Louis Catholic Workers put out), put out a great response to address some of those questions that were very helpful for me. http://karenhousecw.org/2006Homosexuality.htm It might be helpful.